


A Chronological Inconsistency

by Renwick



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Signal AU, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renwick/pseuds/Renwick
Summary: Lazily, she reaches out to readjust the mid-air takeaway tray flying into her face like she’s done a hundred times.What she doesn’t expect is for the girl to move too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> an experimental piece that's been sitting in my docs for a while. 
> 
> comments appreciated. cheers.

“Chaeng, I can’t do this any more.”

They’ve been housemates for the longest time. It was at one of Sana’s many parties (Jeongyeon swore the girl unintentionally wooed half the town) that they had hit it off. Jeongyeon was pleasantly woozy from the abundance of suspiciously red punch, a bit too sweaty from the commotion and singular conglomerate of drunk partygoers that had taken over the living room, so she had hightailed it to the kitchen to get a breath of fresh air, or at least, as fresh as you can get at an overly alcoholic house party. While she had been carefully nursing a beer, half-listening to Momo tell a story that had to do with mosquitoes or whatever, Sana and a smiley Dahyun strode into the kitchen with a new freshman in tow. She had short cropped brown hair that was a little mussed from Dahyun’s dilligent affection, and the moment their eyes met, they instantly became best friends, partners in crime - the No Jam Bros. Or at least, that’s how they told that story. In reality, Jeongyeon had been trying to shoot fingerguns at Sana, who promptly ignored her to attach herself to a preoccupied Momo, but it was Chaeyoung who had shot back with double-snap fingerguns and a greasy wink, and that’s all she wrote.

An hour or two later, they had gotten a little too tipsy on one too many cups of that sickeningly sweet, and surprisingly alcoholic, strawberry punch and starting conspiring. With matching grins, they raided the supply cabinet and with wobbly feet on a wobblier kitchen chair, they set up the sloshing bucket of water on top of the door to the kitchen. After one deafening scream and the telltale sound of water splattering everywhere on the tiled floor, poor gentle, prim and proper Mina (now more closely resembling a kelpie with her black hair plastered wetly to her face) became their first and only victim. They had fled through the mass of bodies and towards the front entrance giggling madly while running away from a livid and lightning fast Momo, and as they flew down the stairs of the porch, Jeongyeon grabbed Chaeyoung’s arm with a sly grin and snapped her fingers.

The noise of the party stilled, and Momo was halfway through leaping down the stairs, suspended in air, frozen in time with a terrifying scowl on her face. 

“Oh my God.” 

“Come on,” Jeongyeon tugged at Chaeyoung’s sleeve, scrambling up a nearby tree. “Can’t hold this for long.” 

“But I wanna take a picture of her face,” Chaeyoung pouted as she clambered up the trunk. “That’s gold.” 

“Phones don’t work in here anyway.” Jeongyeon shrugged before letting out a deep exhale. Then, wind began to whistle once more, leaves rustling, and the tree began to vibrate to the heavy bass of whatever generic dubstep track was being blasted through the speakers. Through the foliage, they saw Momo skid to a stop near the mailbox, running her hands through her hair before stalking back into the house growling.

“Oh my God,” Chaeyoung laughed as she slid back down the tree. “That was really cool.” 

“I think that’s the most athletic I’ve done in a while,” Jeongyeon muttered breathlessly. “Maybe I should drink more often.”

“Oh unnie, did you know that your eye twitches like crazy when your power is about to give out?”

And, now, here they are. Housemates. 

“I can’t do this,” Jeongyeon groans loudly from her spot on the floor, half of her body under the coffee table and an arm slung over her face. “I’m moving out.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Chaeyoung rolls her eyes as she saunters out kitchen with a glass of water, being extra careful to step on Jeongyeon before flopping down on the couch. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours since the AC broke.” 

“Broke?” Jeongyeon sputters, incredulous. “Your girlfriend touched the AC and it fell out of the fucking wall.”

Chaeyoung kicks Jeongyeon in the shoulder accusingly. Little punk. “Okay, first of all, Tzuyu has super strength, and secondly, I explicitly told you to not let her touch it.” 

“Fine then. I’m moving out and suing you for physical abuse instead,” Jeongyeon rolls over onto her stomach and grumbles. “Should’ve convinced you to live on campus for another year.”

Her arms are splayed out wide, desperately trying to find any cold spots of wood. There’s sweat soaking into her white t-shirt (she regrets her choice of clothing), and she feels as if she’s melting, becoming one with the floorboards. This is how her life ends, as a puddle on the floor of her shared apartment, dying in front of Chaeyoung. It’s a little bit cinematic, taking in her very last breaths in front of her best friend, and Jeongyeon resigns herself to the sweltering air. She’s had a good run. She hears the springs of the couch sigh. The damn furniture is siding with Chaeyoung even though they split the apartment fifty-fifty, which is totally unfair. Maybe it’s the heat addling her brain, but in the moment, it’s as if the world is working against her in every way possible, a massive Rube Goldberg machine on an unprescedented global scale. From the dysfuctional appliances to her choice of housemate, it’s all gone terribly, terribly wrong. A minute later, footsteps return and there’s a ten dollar bill on her face. 

“Jeong, stop complaining and go do something useful for once,” she can hear Chaeyoung rolling her eyes. “I’ll even pay for coffee.”

It’s when Jeongyeon has gotten an actual pair of pants (she has some dignity left, contrary to what Chaeyoung says), looking presentable enough to go outside that she’s stopped again by Chaeyoung in the foyer. 

“Get me the usual,” she doesn’t need to turn around to see the smirk on Chaeyoung’s face. “Maybe go hit on the barista, or whatever. You need to _chill_ out.”

“It’s Jeongyeon-unnie to you,” Jeongyeon scowls as she steps through the doorway. “Go die in a hole, Son Chaeyoung.” 

“Iced caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream! Love you too!” She hears Chaeyoung’s voice and an all too familiar cackle trickle down the hall as she stomps off. Jeongyeon shoots off a quick text to Momo with their order as she strolls lazily down the block. 

Hit on the barista. Chaeyoung’s words echo in her head - yeah, no thanks. Momo works Tuesday afternoons, and no way was she going to pull that girl off of Mina any time in the next three centuries.

They had been hopelessly enamored with each other for ages as if they were stuck playing out some godawful rom-com where the writers had to stretch out the content to milk the everloving fuck out of the show. Jeongyeon can vividly recall Momo falling into a state of gay panic while they had been out for samgyeopsal one night after classes had ended. This was serious business because Momo had chose to cradle her head in her hands rather than eat the smoking meat that was on the grill in front of them. Jeongyeon had spent a good five minutes trying to feed a comatose Momo, with Tzuyu muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “you should just lock them in a closet together, not like it’s anything new to them anyway”. Myoui Mina was singlehandedly upturning the balance of the world and destroying the natural order, and Sana (God bless her soul), thoroughly fed up with a quiet, lovesick Momo had decided to take things into her own hands. 

“Momoring, [if you like her, just say you like her](http://youtu.be/nvocrXQ3i-U?t=114),” Sana’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed as she nodded earnestly. This was probably the most serious Jeongyeon had ever seen her in her entire life, and to be honest, it was a little scary. “If you want to go out, just say so!”

“Right?” Sana asked, waving her chopsticks flippantly. “I mean, that's the same with animals!”

“Sana!” Jeongyeon hissed while Tzuyu just gave a noncommittal shrug before stuffing another lettuce wrap into her mouth. 

“She’s not wrong.”

Then came that house party. It had taken a few weeks, but eventually Momo and Mina forgave them about it, the whole kitchen-water-bucket incident. Momo had let it slip a few months later that the faithful day was their anniversary, and, if Jeongyeon was going to be honest with herself, if all it took for Momo and Mina to stop bumbling and circling around each other was to dunk Mina in a bucket of water, she would have done it a year earlier. 

The bell on the café door chimes as Jeongyeon pushes it open, greeted by a welcomed rush of cool air and the comforting scent of coffee. The place isn’t packed, but there’s a respectable level of background chatter that fills her space amongst the sound of cutlery clinking, pens scratching ink onto notebooks, and ceramic ringing against the tabletops. Stretching her arm above the display of travel mugs and coffee beans, she flags down an on-duty Momo before sidling up to the register feeling lighter than she had been this morning. At least Tzuyu wasn’t here to accidentally destroy more air conditioners. 

“Hey,” Momo smiles at her, eyes crinkling. 

“Hey yourself,” Jeongyeon grins back as she slides Chaeyoung’s ten dollar bill across the black counter. “Where’s Mina?”

Momo jerks her head towards one of the café’s far corners. The two are really inseperable. “Studying with friends. They’re waiting on Nayeon, though.” She pauses to punch a few buttons on the register, then slides a loaded travel tray in her direction. 

There’s the familiar jingle of their ice and spare change amidst a pile of stuffed napkins. “You’re my favorite,” Jeongyeon sighs happily, picking up the tray. “Don’t tell Chaeyoung.”

“What an honor,” she drawls, head tilted to one side. “See ya later, Jeong.”

While Jeongyeon’s busy looting a handful of straws from the counter, her phone starts to buzz in her pocket. She doesn’t even bother to check the caller ID before she picks up, tucking the phone in the crook of her neck. “Hey _unnie_ ,” Jeongyeon can hear Chaeyoung sassing her with the endless reserves of her delayed teenage angst as she makes her way to the exit. “I called our landlord. He said he’ll come over and get it repaired by tomorrow. Oh,” she adds hastily. “Bring back my change, you owe me at least that much.” 

“Momo’s three steps ahead of you, kid,” Jeongyeon mutters. 

“Whatever, grandma.” But before she can hang up on Chaeyoung, the bell rings jarringly and a girl plows through the doorway with purposeful strides straight into Jeongyeon. 

Jeongyeon’s known Sana (a walking, talking, and overly peppy disaster waiting to happen) for a good few years, so making sure things don’t fall and break is a task she’s well versed in. Being able to pause time is pretty damn useful. Right after the moment of impact, she’s acting on instinct alone, snapping her fingers to calm the chatter of the café as the world comes to a standstill around her. Lazily, she reaches out to readjust the mid-air takeaway tray flying into her face like she’s done a hundred times. 

What she doesn’t expect is for the girl to move too. 

They lock eyes, and for that brief second, their hands brush past each other. Suddenly, she feels it - a jagged jolt of electricity. It runs up her entire arm and slams into the back of her eyes. She hears the rift in spacetime scream shut, an earpiercing sound that drills a path through her skull, and the whoosh of coffee scented air as she’s sent flying into a product display. It’s as if she’s been submerged underwater. Her ears are ringing, but there isn’t anything left to hear. There’s muffled yelling, footsteps, and a warm hand on her forehead, but there’s no hope in trying to process any of it. The only thing Jeongyeon is really aware of is the throbbing ache of an oncoming migraine, black creeping in from all sides, and the unpleasant feeling of Chaeyoung’s iced caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream seeping into the front of her shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

Limbs heavy and mind submerged in murky darkness, she stumbles slowly into consciousness, pushing through the surface to only find herself surrounded by a uncomfortable cacophony of sensations and noise. Jeongyeon wakes up to the sounds of hushed chatter, and amongst other things, the familiar indignant squawking of one Son Chaeyoung. 

“Jihyo, I can’t,” she stammers. 

“Chaeyou-”

“I can’t take care of her. What if something happens? I’m gonna fuck it up.”

“Chaeng,” Jeongyeon croaks. The words feel foreign in her throat, and all the voices in the room fall quiet. “Shuddup.”

Chaeyoung snorts, but she doesn’t smile. 

“Jeongyeon,” Mina murmurs as she kneels down beside her. “How do you feel?”

“M’ head hurts.” The syllables slur together and her tongue is heavy in her mouth. “Too loud, ‘s too bright.”

Mina’s jaw tightens, and as she stands back up, Jeongyeon clenches her eyes shut again. God. She said something stupid again, didn’t she?

Jeongyeon can feel everything and nothing all at once. The room is too cold, and she can feel the air conditioning through the coarse cotton of the thin hospital blanket against every hair that stands on end. The smell of bland, inoffensive dinners with the foil covered serving sized cups of cranberry juice melds with the telltale odor of stale soiled linen, and it makes her stomach turn. Everything seems restless and wrong. Grooves between the eggshell ceiling tiles slowly warp from straight to curved to straight again, the generic landscape painting on the opposite wall seems to come to life only to fade back into the frame, and the green lines of the heart monitor threaten to leap off the screen at every moment. 

She hears the soft tones of Mina’s mild voice, and she sees the concern in Jihyo’s furrowed eyebrows and the uneasiness in Chaeyoung’s shoulders as she fidgets with her wristwatch, but there are no words, only sound. There’s a girl with long brown hair sitting slumped back in an uncomfortable looking chair, her right arm held up by a navy blue shoulder sling. A somber tiredness fills her eyes, and Jeongyeon frowns. 

What was her name? Jeongyeon knows it. She swears she knows it, swears her friends have mentioned her name in passing at some point. The syllables are so close, as if she can reach out and just barely brush them with her fingertips, but they’re still too far for her to grasp. With all her concentration, she racks her brain for an answer, but the throbbing, steady beat of her pounding headache just intensifies. A quiet groan escapes her throat as she curls in on herself, the sound of the sheets against the grainy hospital gown awful in her ears. Jihyo and Mina stop talking.

She just wants to get out, be anywhere. Anywhere but here.

“Jus’ wanna go home,” she mumbles into the bed. 

The wood of the chair creaks. A warm hand comes to rest on her arm, grazing the unpleasant bracelet on her wrist. It’s a tentative touch, but it’s tender and gentle. 

“It might be best for you to stay for one night,” Mina tries, but Jeongyeon shakes her head no, burrowing deeper into the blankets. 

“Our AC is broken,” she hears Chaeyoung sigh. “And I can’t be around all the time to watch her.”

“She can stay with us, Jihyo.” An unfamiliar voice. “I can take the couch.” 

“Nayeon, please.” Jihyo says, exasperated. “You don’t need to be selfless. Take care of yourself too.”

Nayeon. That was her name. 

“I’ve got a broken arm, but I’m not seriously concussed,” Nayeon snaps. “I can watch her when you or Mina can’t be around.” 

“She can stay under observation here-”

The hand leaves her arm and the chair scrapes back against the floor suddenly. 

“If the AC is out, in this heat, their apartment is out of the question.” Nayeon’s voice is stormy, and she hears Jihyo takes a stilted breath. “Sana and Momo’s place is a half hour drive from here, Tzuyu and Dahyun live on campus, and Mina’s studio can barely fit two people.” 

Her words echo in the small room. Jeongyeon whimpers quietly. The room pauses.

“You heard her, Jihyo.” Nayeon’s voice tapers off into something softer. “She just wants to go home.”

There’s a long silence. Only the ambiance of the hospital remains - the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the sound of plastic casters rolling on the floor, and the chatter of nurses and staff from outside. 

“I can fill out the discharge paperwork,” Mina scuttles off into the hallway and Jihyo sighs. 

“Okay.”

 

 

Every time car jerks to a stop, Jeongyeon’s stomach lurches. Nayeon’s steadfast grip on her hand does nothing to stop her head from spinning and the windows do nothing to keep out the light. She can hear the rumble of the engine and every bit of gravel that hits the chassis of Jihyo’s sedan. Mina promised her it would only be a ten minute drive, but they’ve been the longest ten minutes of her life. It’s too bright, too loud, too much, and Jeongyeon just wants to sink into nothingness. She stutters on a breath when she feels her abs clench.

“Don’t feel so good,” Jeongyeon mumbles, and she hears Chaeyoung groan “oh God, no” from the front seat. It sparks a commotion, and Jeongyeon just squeezes her eyes shut again.

 

 

The porcelain of the toilet is pleasantly cool against her cheek, a brief reprieve from the spinning of the world around her. A careful hand rubs her back, but it’s little to stop her from dry heaving. It takes forever for her stomach to settle back down. 

Nayeon slips a cup into her hand, giving her the time to wrap her fingers around it. It’s difficult to not trigger her gag reflex on the mouthwash, but Jeongyeon manages to spit it back into the toilet. Miserable and spent, she slumps back into Nayeon.

“Mina, Chaeyoung,” Nayeon calls out quietly. “Help me out.”

They lift her up beneath her arms, and Jeongyeon tries her best to navigate. It’s difficult when her muscles refuse to do what she wants them to do. With heavy feet and awkward steps, she stumbles along with them until she’s sat down on a soft mattress. 

“Sleep,” Nayeon says, but Jeongyeon shakes her head.

“S’ bright,” she whines, eyelids drooping as Nayeon gets up to dig around in the drawers of her nightstand. 

The blinds don’t do enough to keep the daylight out and the watchful, worried gazes of Chaeyoung and Mina as they talk in the doorway is difficult to ignore.

There’s a strap pulled clumsily around her head, and suddenly, everything turns into a much welcomed black. She’s gently pushed back onto plush pillows, and someone pulls the blankets up to her shoulders. 

“Sleep.” 

 

 

Jeongyeon wakes up to an unfamiliar darkness, kicking the too warm sheets as she rolls over to sit up, whichever way up is. Everything’s still muddled and foggy, thoughts blurring into each other with every throb of her head. She fumbles with her arms outstretched, trying to find a surface to orient herself with, but it’s as if she’s suspended in zero-gravity. 

A pen clicks closed. 

“Hey,” Jihyo whispers, her warm hand steady on Jeongyeon’s shoulder as she gets helped up. 

“Can’t see,” Jeongyeon mumbles, reaching out for Jihyo who just giggles. 

Gently, Jihyo pulls something off of her head and the light floods back in. An abundance of pens and highlighters are scattered across the bedside table, and a thick hardcovered book with a multitude of colorful sticky notes lays open on the mattress. From the space between the blinds, the dulcet tones of an orange sunset filter into the room. The rosy sheets are soft and silky, a world of difference from the scratchy cotton of the hospital bed. The mattress sinks underneath Jihyo’s weight as she moves to sit next to Jeongyeon. Slowly, she brings a hand up to push the sweaty fringe out of Jeongyeon’s eyes.

“Nice sleeping mask, Jeong.” Jihyo grins easily as she places the fuzzy pink eye mask into her lap. There are little rabbit ears on it, and Jeongyeon has never before seen such a thing in her life. “Didn’t peg you for the type.”

“Not mine,” a blush warms her cheeks. “I swear.”

Jihyo throws her head back and laughs. It’s melodious, though a bit loud, but then again, when hasn’t she ever been loud?

“I’m just kidding,” she chuckles, catching her breath. “You’re in Nayeon’s room, and she really _really_ likes rabbits.”

Jihyo pulls a white stuffed rabbit onto the bed. Some of the stitches are coming out, the fabric is a little threadbare, and its nose is a dull, washed out pink. It’s still cute though, and it reminds Jeongyeon of her own collection of well loved stuffed animals at home. 

“This is Kkaengi,” Jihyo glances at the door briefly before she continues. “Nayeon still sleeps with it, but don’t tell her I told you that.”

“Nayeon,” she says softly. “Where is she?”

“Asleep in my room,” Jihyo says as she closes her textbook, putting it on the nightstand and pushing the pens aside. “She’s doing okay, don’t worry.”

Jeongyeon furrows her eyebrows as she runs a hand along Kkaengi’s soft floppy ears. Vague images of navy blue shoulder slings come to the forefront of her mind through the drowzy haze of other jumbled thoughts, and Jeongyeon is pretty sure broken arms don’t fall under the realm of okay. She should’ve been more careful with her powers, she should’ve just let the coffee go, she should’ve just- 

“Jeongyeon,” Jihyo takes her hand. “She’s okay, I promise.”

Wordlessly, Jihyo shifts closer on the bed and pulls her into a hug. It’s warm and comforting, and Jeongyeon exhales shakily as she tucks her face into the crook of Jihyo’s neck. The entire day has been a blur. She can recall the teasing tone of Chaeyoung’s voice over the phone, the jingle of the bell on the café door, and the serrated, biting pain that traveled through her entire body. It makes her flinch, and Jihyo’s arms squeeze around her tighter. 

The commotion after the crash, the hospital, the car ride back - it’s all hazy. Trying to remember the finer details and the order in which everything happened is impossible. It makes her head hurt, a headache pounding rhythmically against the back of her eyes with every heartbeat, and it’s frustrating. 

It’s a lot. Today has been a lot. 

“Do you want some tea?”

She pulls back and Jihyo lets her go. The oversized t-shirt (Jihyo’s probably, she reasons. It’s far too big around her chest.) sticks uncomfortably to her back, and Jeongyeon grimaces. 

“Can it be cold?”

“Yeah, let’s move to the couch.”

On unsteady feet, she slips off the bed. Jihyo ducks under her arm and holds her with a careful grip as they slowly shuffle out of Nayeon’s bedroom. As Jihyo pads off to the kitchen, she slumps onto the couch, resting her chin on Kkaengi’s fuzzy head. Under the TV, the display reads 20:21. How long had she been out? What day was it? How much time had passed?

“Did I sleep for an entire day?” She asks, frowning, when Jihyo returns with two glasses and a familiar green bottle of oolong tea. 

“No. You only slept for a few hours,” Jihyo hands her a glass and two white tablets, shaking her head when Jeongyeon looks at her quizzically. “Take it. It’s Tylenol.”

The pills go down easy with the cold, unsweetened tea, and Jeongyeon sighs. 

“I know it’s been a long day,” Jihyo says. “Are you feeling better?”

“Mmhm,” she nods timidly. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jihyo pours herself a cup. “Nayeon had her mind set on it, and frankly, she’s the most stubborn person I know. And besides, didn’t Chaeyoung say something about your AC?”

“Oh yeah. Tzuyu pushed it out of the wall the other day.”

Jihyo sputters on a mouthful of tea, eyes wide. 

“It made a dent in the fire escape,” she taps her fingers on the glass thoughtfully, watching ripples go across the surface. “I’ll show you the next time you come over.”

As the clock ticks by, the conversation meanders slowly from one unrelated topic to another; Chaeyoung and Tzuyu being uncharacteristically sappy and gross with each other (Jeongyeon came back home early once to see Tzuyu backed up against a wall by Chaeyoung in the foyer of their shared apartment, and the height difference would have been absolutely hilarious if not for the other … steamier implications that required about two hours worth of cute puppy videos on Youtube as eye bleach), Bbosong shedding everywhere, Mina’s strange obsession with penguins, and their meaningless chatter fades off into comfortable silence as the sun goes down. Jeongyeon has never been more glad to be friends with Jihyo. Maybe she had saved the world in another life, because Jeongyeon has no idea how she deserves any of this. She’s really too good for her. 

“Seriously,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

Jihyo pulls her in for a hug. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

 

 

“Take it easy, Nayeon,” Jihyo groans over the sound of the coffeemaker. “You literally broke your arm yesterday.”

“I can still pour cereal with one arm, Jihyo,” Nayeon barks. “I’m not completely crippled.”

Sleepily, Jeongyeon shuffles to the kitchen. She knows she can go back to bed, after all, she’s been excused from classes, and Jihyo would probably tear her a new one if she even tried to go, but it’s still a weekday and her stupid brain doesn’t know any better. Besides, it’s hard to ignore their bickering. Jihyo’s always been a loud person, for better or for worse, and it seems that Nayeon is too. No wonder they share an apartment. 

She pauses in the doorway, watching the two argue animatedly. 

“You don’t have classes today, Nayeon,” Jihyo waves at the stovetop clock, sighing deeply. “It’s eight in the morning. Go back to sleep.”

“I slept for like twelve hours last night, _mom_ ,” Nayeon talks through a mouthful of Cheerios, pointing her spoon accusingly. Some of the milk drips onto the table and she sees Jihyo’s eye twitch. “And what if I want to eat cereal at eight in the morning? You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Just take your pain meds and go back to bed.” 

“I would, but _someone_ with two functioning arms hasn’t uncapped the bottle for me.” Nayeon sticks her tongue out and Jihyo glowers back as she pours coffee into her thermos. 

They both freeze when Jeongyeon takes a step into the kitchen.

“Hey,” she smiles drowsily.

“Feeling better?” There’s a hand ruffling her already sleep mussed hair when she sits down, and she watches Jihyo shrug her backpack on. “Help yourself to whatever you want. I have an orgo lecture to run to.”

Patting Jeongyeon’s shoulder, Jihyo drops two white tablets next to Nayeon’s bowl of Cheerios. 

“Make sure she takes them, okay?” 

“Yes, _mom_ ,” Nayeon makes a face, scrunching her nose, and a few moments later, the front door creaks shut. 

Jeongyeon’s heard about her in passing, usually as the “roommate” or “the other fifty percent of the noise” to quote a disgruntled Mina while Jihyo had rolled her eyes, but they’ve never really met. And, now, she’s sitting in her apartment (well, technically Nayeon and Jihyo’s shared apartment) in Jihyo’s oversized t-shirt that’s slipping off her shoulders and a pair of borrowed patterned pajama bottoms watching her eat Cheerios from across the table. They’ve never shared any classes, never sat down to talk, and never been introduced to each other. She doesn’t know what Nayeon studies - she doesn’t even know her surname. 

“Hey,” they both start. Jeongyeon winces and Nayeon lowers her gaze back down to her bowl of Cheerios. 

“Uhh,” Jeongyeon tries when Nayeon stands up suddenly.

“Do you want toast? Cereal?” Nayeon runs her good hand through her hair and chuckles nervously. “Don’t expect anything fancy, though.” 

“Toast is fine,” Jeongyeon starts to get up, but Nayeon just pushes her back down into the chair. 

“Let me.”

“I can make toast,” Jeongyeon frowns, waving a hand at her shoulder sling. “I mean, I’m the one who broke your arm yesterday.”

“Jeongyeon,” Nayeon whips around suddenly, jabbing a finger into her own chest. “I’m the one that sent you flying into a shelf, spilled coffee on your shirt, and gave you a concussion. I should be the one apologizing.”

They pause. The toaster clicks. Nayeon takes a deep breath and lowers her voice. It’s almost a whisper, and Jeongyeon has to strain to hear her above the humming of the city around them. 

“You felt that too, right? When our hands brushed past each other in the rift?” Jeongyeon nods slowly. “God, that hurt so bad, and then, I saw you in a heap on the floor. Every time I tried jumping back to redo it, I just got caught in a loop - reliving that moment over and over and over again.” 

Nayeon’s shoulders shake as she lets out a tremendous sigh. 

“It’s my fault, okay?” She says, screwing her eyes shut. “I should’ve been more careful about where I was going, should’ve been more careful with the rewinding.”

“Nayeon-”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nayeon,” Jeongyeon repeats, voice firm, throat tight. 

She pads over to the toaster, putting her hand on Nayeon’s shoulder. Their eyes meet and Nayeon takes a stilted breath, her gaze flitting across Jeongyeon’s face as if searching for something. Jeongyeon allows herself a moment before continuing. 

“I don’t want to pretend it never happened,” Jeongyeon says. “But it’s behind us, okay?” 

Nayeon laughs wetly, laughing harder when Jeongyeon tilts her head, brows furrowed. 

“That’s it?” She wipes a runaway tear with the back of her hand. “Are you kidding me?”

“Huh?” 

“Did Jihyo tell you to say that?” Nayeon quirks an eyebrow, shifting her weight onto her other leg. 

“N-no?” Jeongyeon stutters. “Why? Did I say something weird?”

“I was thinking about it all morning, you know? What do I say to her? How do I apologize?” Jeongyeon watches Nayeon pluck the toast out, taking the plate hesitantly when it’s offered to her. “But you just finished in like, ten words.”

“Do you want me to say more?” Jeongyeon asks, allowing herself to get pulled back to the table, toast in hand.

“No. I just hate it that you’re right,” Nayeon chuckles, shaking her head incredulously. “It’s behind us.” 

They both settle back down into the wooden chairs, and Jeongyeon spreads butter onto her toast, careful that the crumbs don’t make a mess on the table. Nayeon plays with her leftover cereal, swirling the milk with the spoon. No more hospitals, no more yelling, and no more apologies. Closing her eyes, Jeongyeon lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. It’s done, it’s behind them. They’re good. 

“But all things considered,” Jeongyeon freezes as Nayeon affixes her with a smug look. “I still owe you coffee.”

“You know,” Jeongyeon puts down her toast. “If that makes you feel better, then yeah, you owe me a coffee.”

“Then how about we try again?” Nayeon sticks her hand out over the table. “Im Nayeon, senior in applied economics and management and Jihyo’s housemate.”

Jeongyeon reaches out but pauses.

“No time powers this time,” Nayeon grins. “I promise.”

Smiling back, Jeongyeon returns the handshake. “No time powers.”

They chat over a forgotten breakfast for the next two hours and as Nayeon rambles on about how applied economics is superior to plain old economics (“That’s why it’s _applied_ economics,” Nayeon waves her spoon flippantly. “What’s the point of learning how to make money if you don’t use it to make money?”), she learns that Nayeon is more than talkative enough to compete with Jihyo’s socialite tendencies. The conversation shifts from Jihyo’s best shower singing moments to their mutual hatred of soggy cereal, and it’s a lot to keep up with. Im Nayeon is like a hurricane, but Jeongyeon finds that she really doesn’t mind. 

 

 

The next few days come and go. 

Chaeyoung stops by with a suitcase of her clothes, hugging her tightly and shoving her face in the crook of Jeongyeon’s neck when she answers the door. Chaeyoung’s always been a constant presence in her life for the past two years, and it’s not often that she gets to realize how much of a difference her absence makes. When Chaeyoung mumbles a “I’m glad you’re okay, unnie,” Jeongyeon almosts forgives her for stepping on her the other day. In the foyer of Jihyo and Nayeon’s shared apartment, they take the time to hug it out. It’s sweet, and Jeongyeon’s really missed her. 

That is, until Chaeyoung smiles with faux innocence when Jeongyeon reminds her that the couch is _one-hundred percent off limits_. The thought of Chaeyoung and Tzuyu having free reign over their apartment for a week is frightening, and Jeongyeon regrets everything.

 

 

The next day, Sana struts into the apartment with two Dahyuns, carrying far too many brown paper bags full of groceries. Nayeon looks at her suspiciously when Sana declares that she’s going to make them all dinner, and that suspicion is justified when Sana and the multitude of Dahyuns somehow manage to set off the smoke alarm. When Jihyo comes back from lecture twenty minutes later, she just rolls her eyes and phones Momo who ends up being the one to cook dinner. 

 

 

In the hours between spontaneous visits, Jihyo’s vigilant, overly maternal watch, and Nayeon’s company, the novelty of brain rest wears off quickly. There are only so many hours that Jeongyeon can remain asleep, and there are only so many hours that she can stay sane without any connection to the outside world. Each day just blends into the next like it’s just one really long day, and it’s driving her crazy. 

Jeongyeon sighs in relief when she hears the door open and perks up when Nayeon throws her backpack off to the side and slumps onto the couch next to her. 

“Excited to see me?” Nayeon grins impishly, ruffling her hair. 

“Shut up,” Jeongyeon laughs. “I’m just bored.”

It’s easy company, and Jeongyeon settles into her side as she texts Seungyeon, begging her to send her videos Bbosong. She misses that little guy. 

“Aren’t you not supposed to be on your phone?” Nayeon asks curiously, breaking the silence. “If Jihyo comes back, she’s going to murder me.”

“Pretty sure Jihyo’s in lectures for the next two hours,” Jeongyeon shrugs. “Besides, not like my head hurts or anything.” 

“Jeongyeon-”

“I’ll show you videos of my dog?”

Nayeon pauses before getting out her own phone. 

“Only if you let me show you videos of my dog.”

They end up trading videos of Bbosong and Kookeu and Mina comes to chew the both of them out. 

 

 

She’s dozing off on the couch one afternoon when Nayeon flops down next to her, a pair of sunglasses resting atop her head. 

“You’re sick of being inside, and I’ve been caffeine sober for a week,” Nayeon giggles when she blinks back sleepily. “Wanna get coffee?”

Jeongyeon can’t come up with a reason to say no. 

They walk lazily down the block, careful to stay under the shade of the trees. It’s not muggy, but it’s clear, sunny, and pleasantly warm. The usual bustle of the city is still a lot to take in after being cooped up inside for a week under Jihyo and Mina’s careful watch, but the sounds of passing cars, the feeling of the firm concrete under her feet, and the brush of a light summer breeze through her hair is something she’s missed deeply. It was a bit stifling, having two pre-meds fuss over her for the better part of a week, but Jeongyeon supposes whoever puts up with her while she’s retching into a toilet automatically gets excused from her complaining. She should really get them a gift basket.

As they approach the café, Jeongyeon beings to pull out her wallet, but there’s a familiar grip on her wrist, pushing her hand back into her pocket. 

“Let me pay, Jeong,” she smiles sheepishly. “Last time you tried to buy coffee, I sent you flying into a bunch of travel mugs.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” she starts, but Nayeon just shakes her head. 

“I insist.”

“Technically, you owe Chaeyoung coffee,” Jeongyeon muses. Damn Tzuyu and her super strength. “It was her money after all.”

She almost bumps into Nayeon, who abruptly pauses in front of her. She’s about to ask what’s wrong when suddenly, Nayeon turns and leans in impossibly close with one eyebrow raised and a dangerous smirk on her face. 

“Do you not want me to owe you coffee?” 

“I-I,” Jeongyeon stutters, looking off to the side. 

Nayeon looks at her expectantly with her large brown eyes over the rim of her sunglasses. She has a hand on her hip and shifts her weight from one leg to another, impatiently waiting for some kind of response. Her gaze tugs at her heart, and Jeongyeon kind of wants to snap her fingers and pause time to process the moment, but after all that’s happened, she decides it’d be wrong to do that. 

“I mean,” she mumbles into her shoulder, cheeks burning. “If you’re offering...”

Nayeon pulls back and grins victoriously.

“I thought so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a little while. I wasn't happy with what I had written for the longest time, and I'm still not sure whether I'm satisfied with the way it turned out. It might be something I come back to at a later time. There are bits and pieces of this that I plan on putting into a larger project, but that's a ways off. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you've enjoyed the ride. Comments and suggestions always appreciated.
> 
> cheers


End file.
